Gambling Lessons
by ParisWriter
Summary: Fenris catches Nathaniel teaching his son how to gamble, and decides to teach the archer a lesson of his own.


Author's Note: Written for a contest held by the BroodingLove group on deviantART, which celebrates the characters of Nathaniel Howe and Fenris. The contest entries were required to have both of the broody men in it, and it took me a little while to figure out how to get them into a situation together. Then it hit me - in my headcanon, their wives (Hawke and Charade) are cousins.

Just a final note on the kids' ages: Leto is almost eight, Duncan (the son of Alistair and my Warden, Varia Surana) is 15, Nathaniel's little Mara is about three while Fenris' daughter who is mentioned is six, and little Bartrand is right around one year old.

* * *

**Gambling Lessons**

Fenris stalked down the hallway, his dark brows drawn together and an angry frown upon his face. His son had been late for his daily practice session with him and Alistair – as had Alistair's own son, but the Warden was happy to let the occasional absence slide whereas he was not. At first, he had assumed the boys were being lazy and he would find them still sleeping in their rooms. While that had been Duncan's case, Leto had been absent when his father looked in on him. Fortunately, Alistair's teenage son knew exactly where his young sparring partner could be found.

"Nathaniel!" Fenris roared, knocking the door back against the wall when he threw it open rather unceremoniously. "What's this about you teaching my son to gamble?"

Leto slunk down in his chair at the table, where he was seated between the man in question and Varric, who was balancing his own infant son on his knee. The boy couldn't meet his father's angry eyes, and he reached up to brush some of his dark hair into his face in an attempt to further hide from him.

"Calm down, Broody," the dwarf tried to diffuse the situation. "We're just showing him the ropes of Wicked Grace. That's all."

"You, out," Fenris ordered, pointing first at Varric and then the open door behind him. Varric sighed heavily and stood, lifting little Bartrand up onto his hip, then turned to Nathaniel to tell him he'd see him later.

"_Now_," Fenris growled before the dwarf could manage to get a word out, and he quickly retreated in order to save his youngest child from potentially bearing witness to one of his closest friends tearing out another man's heart.

"You know, Fenris... you're not really one to judge, here," Nathaniel calmly stated, rearranging the cards in his hand. "From what I've heard, you used to hold a weekly game of cards at your mansion in Kirkwall. _And_ there was gambling involved. With a member of the city guard in attendance, no less."

"My son is not even eight years old, Nathaniel," the former slave reminded him, gesturing the to boy who had by now slouched so far down in his chair that his green eyes could just barely be seen peeking over the edge.

"Ah, I see," Nathaniel remarked, finally laying his cards down on the table. "So it's not so much_ what_ I'm teaching him as it is the fact that he's learning it at such a young age."

Green eyes narrowed at the rogue, but Fenris said nothing.

"Let me ask you this," Nathaniel wondered, turning toward the elf and leaning back a bit casually in his chair. "You know how Leto here likes to hang around Alistair's boy, yes?"

"Of course."

"And Duncan is of an age where he is going to start chasing after girls soon," he added.

"I am aware."

"_And_ he idolizes his Uncle Zev," the archer concluded with a smirk. "Now, tell me... Would you rather he be exposed to_ that_ or a game of cards with a little friendly wager on the side?"

Fenris' eyes immediately went wide and his skin blanched. He certainly hadn't considered that possibility. No... Nathaniel was right. It was far better that his boy be exposed to gambling than sex at his age. He didn't even want to _think_ about having to give his son 'the talk.' Not yet, anyway.

"You... have a good point," he acquiesced.

"Leto is part of my family as well, Fenris," Nathaniel reminded him, smiling and reaching over to ruffle the boy's black hair. "You should know that I'm looking out for him, too."

Fenris sighed. "Fine, okay? I'm sorry I overreacted."

"No harm done," Nathaniel waved off his apology. "If I had been in your position, I might have reacted much the same way."

"Is that so?" Fenris asked, an uncharacteristically evil little smirk pulling at his lips. Nathaniel new that look. It was the same one the elf's wife got on her face whenever she was plotting something. He was loathe to think of what was on the former slave's mind, but – given the current line of their conversation – he was almost certain he was trying to think of something inappropriate to show his little Mara.

"Touch my daughter, and I cut off your hands," Nathaniel threatened. He knew it was just talk and the elf would never really do anything to his little girl, especially considering he also had a daughter of his own, but the protective side of him still felt the threat needed to be issued.

"I would never _dream_ of such a thing," Fenris insisted, his smile growing as he let out a throaty chuckle. Yes... Fenris was _definitely_ starting to take on some of his wife's characteristics. Nathaniel was having a hard time telling if he was joking around or being serious, throwing him off just like Charade's cousin did from time to time with her off-handed comments.

"You've been spending too much time around Hawke," Nathaniel grumbled, shaking his head, then gestured to the chair Varric had vacated earlier. "You need to spend more time in the company of other men. Come, join me for a friendly game of cards."

"I think I shall," Fenris said, sitting down at the table. He turned his head slightly toward his son and gave the boy a wink – which Nathaniel missed as he was too busy gathering up the cards off the table – then he turned his attention to the Warden.

"How about a friendly wager?" he asked, his green eyes sparkling in mischief.

* * *

"Charade!"

"Yes?" she called, turning back at the sound of her name, and found her cousin walking up to her purposefully. Adeline picked up her hand when she reached her and deposited a rather heavy little pouch into her palm.

"What's this?" Charade asked, looking from the coin purse to her cousin, very much confused as to why she was being given it.

"That," Adeline replied, pointing at the coin purse, "is the money my husband took from yours earlier during a game of Wicked Grace."

Charade frowned and opened the pouch, gasping in shock when she looked inside. There were easily fifty gold sovereigns nestled within. How had Nathaniel managed to lose _so much_ money? He was easily the best Wicked Grace player in the Ferelden Grey Wardens – out of the honest ones, anyway.

"Fenris hustled him," Adeline explained at the perplexed look on her face, smiling proudly. "He caught Nathaniel trying to teach Leto how to gamble, and so he felt Nathaniel needed a lesson of his own."

"And what was the lesson?"

"Never bet against a former slave with an immaculate poker face," Adeline told her. "Especially not one who was taught how to cheat by Isabela."


End file.
